


White Chris-mas

by lindt_barton



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, What am I doing, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindt_barton/pseuds/lindt_barton
Summary: An experimental meet cute to see if Chris Evans/Chris Pine is write-able... aka Christmas fluff with two very pretty boys!





	White Chris-mas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soglideaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soglideaway/gifts).



> I apologise for any and all sins committed against the concept of an American Christmas, both Chris's and their families, and the characterisation of young children...

'Tis the night before Christmas and Christopher Robert Evans is sitting at the big old table in his mother's kitchen peeling sprouts for lunch tomorrow.

All the doors in the house are open, letting all their light and noise flow together. In the sitting room, Luke is on neice sitting duty - jumping in circles on the living room floor playing astronauts and aliens. Dodger is helping. Or not helping. Depending on how close his tail comes to the Christmas tree. Grandpa Evans is flopped on the sofa, recovering from his own shift on neice duty. Sisters Laura and Beth are ensconced in the dining room wrapping top secret packages with wine and laughter. Upstairs their husbands are attempting to put to bed and give a bath to their respective infant sons. And back in the kitchen Grandma Evans, or just 'Mom', is digging around in the fridge for the next ingredient.

She sighs. "How did I forget the..." she says into the fridge.

Chris looks up, as a peeled and quartered sprout drops onto the top of the pile, "Hm?"

"I forgot the cranberries," she says with a hand pressed against her forehead.

"Ah," he thinks for a moment, "The CornerMart might be open..?" A couple of expressions cross her face, but before she can ask he adds, "I'll go. I'll go," waving his hands.

Smiling, she narrows her eyes at him, "You're just trying to get out of sprout duty." And at that he hops out of his chair towards the living room "I deny all charges!"

Scott, on the floor with Katie and Dodger standing on his chest, wheezes, "Something up?" 

"Mom, forgot the cranberries." He pulls his jacket and scarf off its hook in the hallway. Chris hears Scott groan-yelp, before two sets of footsteps clatter towards him.

Katie stands before him, feet planted at shoulder width, hands on hips, "I wanna come!"

"You gotta ask your Mom first!" he replies with the same enthusiasm.

When she runs and opens the dining room door a flurry movement, clattering and frantic yelling errupts in he face before the door is rapidly re-shut. Katie glares. 

"Oops. Sorry, that was my fault." He nudges her out of the way, "Go get your coat," then knocks and pokes his head in with the door closed against his chest. "Hi." His sisters are giggling into their hands, sitting next to a sea of wrapping paper. He raises and eyebrow, smirking, "Mom forgot the cranberries. Me and Katie are going out to get some. Bye!"

Back in the hallway Katie is pulling on her mittens and Dodger is wiggling at high frequency, having detected imminent walkies. Chris crouches, to scratch his ears, "Sorry, buddy, you can't come." 

"Awww why not?" cries Katie.

Chris keeps scratching Dodger, now starting to squeak, "It's too cold to leave him outside when we go in the shop, so we gotta leave him here." 

She sighs, "Okay," and pats Dodger on the head, "Goodbye Dodger."

Chris pulls his own hat on, "Goodbye Dodger!"

When Katie opens the door she just gasps - quietly over the evening, unseen behind closed curtains, six inches of snow have fallen. Chris doesn't gasp out loud, but feels hers in his chest. He almost wants to tell her that seeing the world so unexpectedly and carefully transformed never seems to get old.

She bats away the gloved hand he offers as they step into the white night, but 200 yards later she takes it anyway, because she loves that he can still pick her up with one hand. Another 500 yards of Chris assisted flight and she's pretending to be the first astronaut on Enceladus and Chris is Houston. 

But she's hardly made it over the rim of the first crater when they reach the junction on which the store sits. Lit by a single dirty white street lamp: A small lot with a single old green porsche parked by one of the two forlon gas pumps. The same old placard advertising out of season ice-cream sitting under a perfunctory faded red awning. 

"Merry Christmas!" he says to the teenage girl in a headscarf sitting behind the counter. 

"Happy Thursday!" she says back with a slightly ironic smile and as soon as he's out of sight in the aisles he scrunches his face up and gently thumps his forehead. "Right they should be in the freezers." 

Katie runs ahead to a chest freezer and climbs up the side. "One left!" As he strolls towards it she leans forwards as far as she can into the chest trying to reach it, "Aaah..." He grabs her around the middle so she can lean the last two inches to grab the bag. Chris pulls her out again. He steps back to let her re-orient, only to bump completely into another customer. 

He spins around to apologise and sees:

Bluest eyes under thick brows. A scruffy beard turned silver at the mouth and swept back brown-blonde hair with greyed temple. 

An odd, high-pitched, "*Hello*" escapes Chris, because: Chris Pine. That's Chris Pine. Here, somehow. Buying? There's a small frozen turkey in shrink wrap plastic under his arm and a bag of roasted potatoes clutched in his fist. And, not wanting to bother another very bothered man, he's about to let it go with another curious, questioning look, when he hears a very small gasp from down at his hip.

Pine looks down at her and smiles, "Hello." A perfect Holywood smile, but with real warmth crackling around his eyes. 

Quietly, she says, "You're Steve." She's holding Chris's hand very tight.  
//Should this be Kirk? He'd look more like Steve or really Mr Murry

There isn't even a twinkle in his eye as he drops into character, kneeling to her eye level and putting a finger to his lips, urgency in his eyes. "I'm undercover kid," he whispers. 

But she just frowns and pouts and stomps her left foot, "I *know* you're not really him. You're an actor like my uncle," she waves the hand still attached to Chris, "I just don't know your real name." 

He laughs good-naturedly and puts up his hands, "Alright, you got me." He holds a hand out, "I'm Chris Pine." 

She lets go of Chris's hand to shake Pine's once, strong, "I'm Katie Richardson. This is my uncle. He has your name: Chris." She adds in a stage-whisper, "He's Captain America."

Pine smiles wider, "Oh really?" He looks Chris up and down, like he's only just seen him. Chris shuffles. Pine looks up at him, blue eyes twinkling for a moment, before he looks back to her, "And what's Captain America helping you with tonight?"

"We're getting cranberries for the sauce."

Chris says, "Mom forgot them," and scrubs the back of his neck. 

"But we got the last one," Katie waves the bag.

"Ah, then your win is my loss."

"Oh," Chris says, "Uh we could give you some of them? Our place is just a block or two over..." 

Pine waves a hand, "Don't worry about it. You can owe me," he says with a wink and Chris huffs a surprised laugh. "Right, sounds like I gotta get the carrots before you do," he claps Chris on the shoulder as he walks away, "I'll see you around, Cap." He spins, "Nice to meet you Miss Richardson."

As soon as Pine rounds the corner Chris covers his face with his hands, leaning backwards, he only supresses a groan because Pine would still be able to hear it. 

Katie pats her uncle Chris on the knee. He's always been very awkward.


End file.
